


Signs

by canttakethecanon



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: ASL, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, An Unexpected Anniversary, Deaf Character, Disabled Character, M/M, Modern AU, Sign Language, THANK YOU GUYS, WE'RE CONTINUING IT, WILL BE MORE THAN A ONESHOT, dirty sign language, rudeness, sassy!bilbo, that's a tag and I love it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canttakethecanon/pseuds/canttakethecanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin was just trying to be a good uncle. Was that really such a crime? It apparently was, if that annoying little bastard in the window had anything to say about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the other side of the glass

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY ANNIVERSARY! This was written quickly to help celebrate " An Unexpected Anniversary", the lovely holiday that marks the day Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield met. I hope you enjoy this. I really loved writing it and I think it will be more than a one shot, but I can't say for sure. Please let me know if you'd like me to write more!

PSSSSSSSSSSSST: Come say hi to me on tumblr [here](http://samconbeat.tumblr.com/) or [here](http://canttakethecannon.tumblr.com/)!

**COMMENCE READING**

 

**~{-}~**

 

This was all Bifur's fault.

 _' Go to Bag End! It's on your way to work.'_ he had said. Or signed really. Poor Bifur was completely mute and mostly deaf after a very bad incident during his years on the force. _' It's the only place I trust to carry my toys. They are the best.'_ he insisted, his grey eyes staring at him so earnestly. Thorin didn't have it in him to refuse.

Kili's birthday was coming up. He still had a week to find him something perfect, but he'd been struggling to figure out what to give him. When Bifur heard of his problem through the grapevine, he'd shown up at his office quite suddenly and gave him a glowing recommendation. Bag End; a small and traditional little toy shop on the very strip he walked every day to the office. He couldn't recall ever seeing it, but he rarely looked up from his phone in the mornings so that wasn't saying much.

Every day since Bifur's sudden appearance he had slowed his quick, purposeful stride whenever he passed the charming little shop on his way to work. He never had time to go in, but creeping by slowly allowed him to peer inside through the large window. He felt a little jilted that he had missed such an interesting little place for so many years.

Intricate, carefully arranged little scenes of great medieval battles, or a sprawling metropolis, or even mystical little glens of fantastical creatures greeted him each morning in the large window. Bifur dealt exclusively in clockwork toys that looked more like they belonged in an art museum than in the hands of a child, but he insisted children had the toys, so he sold them to little shops like this. Or he used to. Now it was just this one and Thorin came to agree it was the best place for them.

The store itself, from what he could tell through the window displays, was a haven of interesting, classical toys. All handmade and ranging from complex like Bifur's little figurines, to simple like carefully carved and woven kites. Everything was dark wood paneling, what wasn't covered in literary wall scrolls, and he swore he saw a little alcove stuffed full of books if he peeked in at just the right angle. The carpet was a deep, plush looking green that made him think of spring grass in the forest just outside Erebor. He had even spotted an ancient antique cash register sitting atop a carved counter that portrayed a scene of a tiny person facing down a gargantuan dragon on it's front.

There were always children there. Even during school hours parents with babies and young toddlers frequented the store, milling around in the early morning as he passed. He never actually saw an employee when he walked by, but he barely allowed himself the time to really look. He had a feeling if he lingered he'd get swept up in his own curiosity and end up being late for work.

Now, standing outside the beautiful engraved glass door to the lovely little shop, Thorin cursed Bifur with the fury of the gods themselves.

Thorin was angry.

No, no that wasn't a strong enough word. Livid maybe. Yes.

Thorin was livid.

He breathed heavily through his nostrils, his lips pressed into a thin, vicious frown and his forehead pressed against the glass of the door. His breath was steaming up the glass. It was a mere three minutes after 10pm. Kili's birthday party was tomorrow and he had had to work late yet again in order to compensate taking the day off tomorrow. He had actually run to try and get to the store before the door was locked.

He had failed.

He tried to assure himself he looked terrifying. Like a dragon, all hellfire and brimstone. He was so not in the mood for something as trivial as "business hours" and was trying to convey just how not acceptable the situation was through his facial expressions.

But the clerk on the other side of the glass was laughing at him. His hand was covering his mouth, but he could barely stay upright from the heaving guffaws of laughter wracking his body. Thorin couldn't hear it through the glass, but he imagined the laugh to be high pitched and annoying if the appearance of the clerk was anything to go by. What kind of self respecting man wore a flower encrusted headband?

His eye twitched as the clerk raised his phone up and snapped a picture. He wondered how heavy the man was and if he'd be able to run home with his body over his shoulder fast enough for no one to spot him before he buried the bastard in his back yard.

Keeping his face against the glass, he proceeded to sign the worst things he could think of. He doubted the clerk understood him, sign language still one of those things only a small part of the populace even recognized. The clerk laughed harder at what he must have thought was meaningless flailing, gripping the counter to hold himself upright.

The clerk wasn't looking at him anymore, his head ducked below the counter as his body continued to shake with mirth. Deep within his mind his sense of reason(it's voice sounding oddly like his sister) piped up that he really should just leave before the clerk stopped enjoying himself and called the police.

Another louder piece of himself(sounding oddly like his brother) casually argued that the clerk was an irritating lump of a man who probably deserved to have his curls ruffled. After all, nobody of decent stock would be laughing at a man like Thorin who was only trying to be a good uncle.

Nevermind the clerk had no idea of the circumstances and probably thought him to be some kind of idiotic burglar.

Without another thought, he raised his fist and banged the flat of it against the glass until it hurt.

He smiled with no small amount of sick satisfaction when the runt of a man jumped at the insistent banging, rushing over with all vestiges of a smile gone. He looked offended and came right up to the door wagging his finger at Thorin furiously. Thorin peeled his face from the glass and tilted his head quizzically, pointing to himself without removing his fist from the door. The clerk nodded. A slow, innocent smile spread across his features.

He pulled his fist back slowly, watching the clerk watch his fist and with as much force as he could, brought the fist down against the door. The frame shook from the force and the clerk jumped again at the resounding 'BANG'. He looked like an angry cat, bristled and mouthing something, pointing between Thorin's face and the fist stuck to the door.

Thorin brought his other hand to his ear, a comical gesture showing he couldn't hear, before shrugging and resuming beating on the door. His arthritis was howling at him, but he would swallow any pain to see the clerk squirm and sputter some more. The voice of reason was muttering lowly that maybe he shouldn't be enjoying upsetting a stranger so much. The ridiculous reddening of the clerks face drowned it out.

The clerk was practically hopping, waving his arms frantically back and forth to tell him to stop. He mouthed a million different things faster than Thorin could even guess what he was saying, before finally digging into his hideous capri pockets(what the hell kind of man wore _capris_?) and pulling out a large keyring.

He stopped at once, dropping his aching and likely swelling fist to his side. The clerk was glaring daggers and shaking as he fumbled with the keys. The voice of reason whispered that he should probably feel guilty for upsetting the man so much. He probably didn't own the store and business hours were business hours. He'd probably get in trouble for opening the door after the till was already emptied. Thorin's eyes flicked to the counter the clerk had been standing at, the till out and all the money spread across the wooden surface.

He probably had a family of his own, too, the voice reasoned. Despite his eccentric and feminine attire, he did have some age to his face. The face was scrunched trying to get the key in the lock, an oddly upturned little button of a nose making him want to touch his own knife-like one. He kept his hands down and stepped back a little. No reason to make the man think he was going to rush him the moment the door was unlocked.

The clerk was already talking before the door even opened.

" --ogant sod!" Thorin raised his eyebrows at the voice. The accent was clearly from the isles, the tone indignant and the facial expression wrapping it all up with extreme disapproval. It wasn't at all squeaky as he had expected. This just irritated him more, for some reason. " We are closed, you twit. No amount of you banging your fist is going to change that." The clerk examined the door briefly. " This door is older than both of us _combined_. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't throttle it, you _brute_!"

Thorin was feeling his anger trickle out of him like water through parted fingers, but it flared when the clerk punctuated his words by jabbing him in the chest with his finger.

" I would not have raised a fuss if this wasn't an emergency." He said cooly, his voice a far cry from the fit he'd just had. " I need to buy something from you. _Now_." He pushed in as much commanding firmness in his voice as he could, drawing from his experience handling interns to give it that wonderful "you can't argue with me" edge. The clerk did not look moved.

" You can take your 'emergency' and stuff it. I'm going home in the next ten minutes, like I always do, and you aren't going to stop that." Thorin wanted to punch the man, but when he raised his arm, he merely checked his watch.

" Ten minutes?" his eyes flitted behind the man briefly. " I will be done in five." The shop really wasn't that big. It wouldn't take him long to find something wonderful for Kili if the little bastard in front of him would. Just. _Move_.

" I suppose you're used to being done in five, aren't you?"

Whatever shred of reason had been left in Thorin's mind flew out the window, the shock of what was just said wiping his mind blank. The clerk had his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised, looking for all the world like he expected Thorin not to understand what he said. For all intents and purposes, Thorin wasn't sure that was an unfair expectation. He felt like his brain may have melted.

" ...What did you say?" He hardly heard himself speak, his voice coming out in such a breathy whisper. The clerk said nothing. His arms uncrossed, he took a single step back and slammed the door in Thorin's face, twisting the key he had left in the lock.

He then, much to Thorin's disbelief, began to sign with his slim hands.

_'You orgasm fast, Douchebag._

_Please leave._

_Have a nice day.'_

The clerk turned and walked back to the counter, refusing to look back up at the door. It was just as well. Thorin could only stare, mouth hanging open as the clerk continued counting the days proceeds.

 

**~{-}~**


	2. Just a paper bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is surprised to find out he's not the only one who can harass people from the other side of a glass pane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT:(5/6/15) Did some minor editing work on this chapter. Fixed some glaring errors and some of the more rambly moments. 
> 
> Wow. Just wow, you guys. I can't believe the positive responses I have received on this. I admit I totally rushed to publish it in time for the anniversary event, but now I love it and must continue and so do you guys, apparently! Thank you, a thousand times thank you for your encouragement!
> 
> And now, a significantly longer chapter with a some more characters and yes, more dirty sign language! It is currently unbetaed as my poor beta is sick. Send comforting thoughts his way, darlings!

Thorin paid close attention to the elderly man before him.

Of course, by that he meant he stared intently at him while he paid absolutely no attention what so ever. Dis would tell him later it wasn't wise to ignore any of his investors, considering his job was literally just to sit there and listen to them talk about their problems, but he would ignore her just like he did them. Until she pinched him, anyways.

The man in front of him had quite a few problems if the dreads, smell, and occasional _trailing-off-and-staring-sightlessly-into-the-nether_ was any indication. Why the man invested with them when he obviously should be growing something illegal in his backyard was beyond him.

 _" Nonsense."_ Gandalf had said when he'd voiced this opinion over coffee. _" Radagast is much more partial to mushrooms, which require a basement."_ Considering the disgustingly cheerful old bastard always had something "medicinal" in his jacket, his casualness on the topic wasn't surprising. Still, Thorin had a legal obligation to look irritated.

Today old Radagast didn't have a problem so much as he was just looking for some reassurance. Drake Enterprises had put out some rather slanderous propaganda against them. They were, in fact, _not_ rewarding industrious employee's with all expense paid hunting trips to Africa. He felt like he shouldn't have to keep explaining this to people, but the old hippie was his third investor to "pop in" suddenly for a little reassurance.

The companies move from traditional mining machinery to green technology manufacturing had brought all kinds of..."eccentrics" out of the wood work. Of course Radagast had been the extreme side of that spectrum, all tie-dye and incense as he was. Highly esteemed, if not totally unknown millionaires and billionaires had also come forward looking to invest in what was hopefully going to be Durin Industrial's bright future.

People like the goddess in mortal form, Galadriel; She refused to share her last name and despite some digging, they literally couldn't find one, nor any explanation as to why she was absolutely rolling in dough. Or the twins Eowyn and Eomer Rohirrim; World renowned show horse breeders who were rumored to be able to communicate with the horses in Old Norse.

Yes, _eccentric_ was a good word for these environmentally conscious beings.

Radagast continued his flighty chatter, not really paying any mind to Thorin, which was fine by him. He absently wondered if maybe he couldn't get away with opening his laptop and sifting through his e-mail without the old man noticing. Most likely not. He was flighty, not blind.

Still, Thorin's eyes strayed from the old hippy and settled on the small row of chairs just outside his office. He'd left the blinds up so hopefully people would see he had a meeting and take the hint to leave him be.

He hadn't been expecting anyone to be staring back at him.

Lounging comfortably in the chair directly across from the glass sat the offensive little mongrel from the toy shop. His sandaled feet bobbed cheerfully to a tune Thorin couldn't hear, his hands tapping a rhythm against the arms of the chair. His whole being spoke of friendliness and ease, even though he clearly had no business being so colorful amongst the grey decor.

Thorin commended himself for not choking on his own air at the sight of the clerk. His eyes didn't even bug out... much.

_How long had he even been sitting there?_

The clerk somehow looked younger than he had the night he had insulted Thorin. He was smiling lightly at him with none of the underlying irritation he'd had before. Though the smile was far from threatening, a little warm even, Thorin's temper twanged and he felt his eye twitch. Radagast, who was gesturing dramatically about some great calling or another, continued to ignore him and his rising temper. He looked back at the clerk, who met his gaze with a delight that told him the clerk saw the recognition on his face.

The hands that had been tapping animatedly had stopped and raised up in front of him, poised in the same manor he had seen Bifur's hands hundreds of times before.

_' Hello.'_

Thorin didn't move. He felt his fingers twitch in reflex, but he kept them plastered to the armrests of his chair.

 _' You look like you are having fun. More than last week.-'_ The hands kept moving, but Thorin looked away, deciding to look at Radagast instead.

" Of course, I couldn't agree more." Radagast had paused, but Thorin's halfhearted validation urged him into another rambling stream of vocalized thought. How they had come from rumors to the proper care of rabbits was beyond him, but he was just happy the man was distracted. Why he was afraid of Radagast noticing his visitor was a mystery, but he reasoned the clerk might not _go away_ if he was acknowledged by anyone else. He focused with all his might on Radagast, determined to ignore the clerk. The old hippie was just getting into a passionate sermon about the travesty that was Easter, when his traitorous eyes strayed to the window once more.

 _' -- cream to numb can help, but lubricant and patience is always the best.'_ He did choke this time, the clerk having stopped his signing to gesture in what he could only describe as a _fingering demonstration_. He told himself his burning face had nothing to do with 'lubrication' being used in the male sense*.

"--no, yes, fine! I'm just fine! Yes, you were saying about the real eggs? Yes, dreadful business, can't believe it's still practiced..." He had to beat his chest with his fist to get that ill gulp of air back out, thankfully not needing to keep talking as Radagast flew into an indignant rage over the colorful misuse of eggs. His face was on fire, though the old man seemed to think that was from his choking. The moment Radagast looked away he glared back at the clerk.

The clerk's lips were parted in a blinding smile, his chest convulsing in laughter. His hands began signing again as his eyebrows waggled suggestively.

 _' That is what got your attention? Anal sex?'_ Thorin couldn't respond, only feel the burn in his face grow hotter. _' I will remember that. It is certainly more interesting than troll boogers.**'_ He had compared the clerk to troll snot that night in front of the toy shop, among a slew of other unpleasant things. Any guilt he may have felt was leaving him quickly at the amusement on the clerk's face. If he believed for a second Thorin was going to stand for his mockery, he had another thing coming!

" Radagast, it has been a pleasure, but I have another client waiting and I feel like I have alleviated your concerns?" Radagast stopped mid sentence, focusing on Thorin as if he had just noticed him in the room.

" Concerns? Oh! Oh my yes, all sorted, no need to worry at all! Yes, it is getting rather late. Sebastian will be starving! Thank you, Mr. Durin, I do so enjoy our chats. You should stop by for tea one day at the sanctuary, I make a marvelous mushroom stew..." They shook hands and Thorin herded the man out the door quickly, pointing him down the correct hall and promising himself to never go to the zoo the man called a sanctuary just outside of town. God knows what he'd try to feed him.

Thorin looked around quickly as soon as Radagast was out of sight. The clerk, he realized with no small amount if disappointment, was gone. It was as if he vanished into thin air. He strode quickly down the hall he'd sent Radagast down to the front desk. Ori cowered at the sight of him.

" Where's the clerk?"

" T-The clerk?" Thorin held back the physical desire to growl at Ori's confusion.

" The clown of a man? Curly hair? Suspenders? Probably pissing himself with laughter?" Thorin ignored how desperate he sounded, the thrill he'd felt at the possibility of confronting the man still ringing through him. Anger continued bubbling up in his chest at the idea of the man laughing at him, mocking him just out of reach and then disappearing out the door. He assured himself he just wanted to know where the man was so he could strangle him. That was the only reason he'd gotten a little excited to catch him. Yes. Murder. That was why.

" O-Oh... You mean Mr. Baggins? He just left, Sir..."

" Baggins..." He muttered under his breath. What a horrible name. " If you ever see _Mr._ Baggins again, I want him thrown out immediately. No exceptions!" He stomped away, ignoring the confused alarm on Ori's face. He was so intent on getting back to his office and pointedly _not_ googling "Mr. Baggins" that he nearly missed the tiny bag on the chair he had seen the clerk sitting him. He stopped, hand still on the door knob to his office and stared at it as though it was a very large spider.

It was just a brown paper bag, folded neatly closed with something written on the front in sharpie and loopy cursive. It bothered him when he recognized it.

" Thorin..." His own name breathed out of his mouth like a word from a language he didn't understand. Even in his haste, he didn't understand how he'd missed the bag entirely. His hand reached slowly out to pick it up, half expecting it to bite him. It was surprisingly heavy, like someone put a rock in it.

' That's a hell of a lot of trouble to go through just to leave someone a rock...' he thought dryly. Maybe it was one of those annoying garden decorations? A pet rock. Just what he needed.

The sound of a door closing somewhere down the hall reminded him he was standing outside his own office with what was likely a bomb in his hand.

With a click, he shut his office door behind him and set himself and the bag down at his desk.

It wasn't ticking. That was a plus, but he still felt no particular want to open it and a desperate desire to know what was inside at the very same time. How on earth did the man know his name? How did he know where he worked? Questions chased each other around his head as his jaw worked at grinding his teeth. Ori had let him in without a fuss, without so much as beeping Thorin on the intercom. Granted, Ori knew not to interrupt him with anything unless the damn building was on fire if he had a meeting, but still...

His large hands slowly unfurled the top of the bag, peeking in cautiously. It was a toy. He felt himself relax instantly, recognizing Bifur's handiwork glinting under the florescent lighting. With reverence, he pulled the heavy figurine from the bag and placed it carefully on the desk. It looked like a horribly ugly man, hulking and hunched over with a strangely pathetic look on it's face. The details were exquisite. Everything was carefully polished, down to the ugly wart like spots all over it's misshapen body.

It looked, for lack of a better word, like a troll. He felt his face heat up again. Quickly, he shook the bag upside down, a small scrap of paper fluttering out onto the desk to answer his prayer for an explanation. He snatched it up and examined it closely.

" He has two brothers. You should come meet them. ~ B.B." he recited aloud, his eyes honing in accusingly on the two innocent B's.

It had been a week since he had blown up outside the toy shop. He had told no one about the encounter, deciding the whole thing could be buried and forgotten without anyone knowing he'd physically pressed his face against a pane of glass to glower at a stranger. No, he needn't give Frerin or Dis the ammunition. He'd bought Kili a bunch of video games that looked important to a child instead and only ended up having to return three of them after Dis explained that Kili already had them.

He swore never to set foot in the shop, to never face that annoying, but at the time quite blameless clerk. He had even resisted slowing down on his morning walk to admire the displays in the window.

Yet here he was, apparently having been tracked down by a " B. Baggins", the very man he'd harassed. Why exactly he wasn't sure, but the toy seated in front of him had him doubting the motivation was revenge.

It was not easy for him to question his own actions. His primary function in the lives of those around him was to be a source of certainty. Unwavering purpose. There was no second guessing for Thorin as second guessing led to self doubt and self doubt led to those around you doubting and that was _completely_ unacceptable.

That being said, he was not above admitting when he was wrong if it was embarrassingly, glaringly obvious. He could almost hear Dis telling him it was.

He had been wrong to throw a temper tantrum outside of the toy shop. It had been a bad week, honestly. Snags in every attempt at a plan, all the extra work and covering Balin's position was not doing him any good. Excessive social interactions never did him good, but none of that had been the clerk's fault. He'd not only had a fit, but he'd assumed Baggins to be ignorant enough that he could simply insult him without his realizing. Yet another slight against a previously nameless stranger who had now come back to haunt him.

The way Baggins was haunting him wasn't entirely what he expected. Apparently Baggins had a mouth on him...or just very dirty hands. Remembering the way he stuck out his tongue in concentration, as if he really was in the middle of loosening some invisible partner's body up with those three digits had his face heating up again. He shook his head.

" I need to get laid." Baggins had clearly just been making fun of him, teasing him as he had done the night they met. It was just his utter lack of time for a 'playmate' that had him reacting to it. If he could just get his mind to stop replaying it in his head, he might even be able to convince himself it wasn't a massive turn on. That no, Baggins was not weirdly adorable, and no, him reciting lewd things and then punctuating them by _acting them out_ did not make other parts of him _burn_.

He pulled himself from that dangerous wave of thoughts and picked up the figurine, turning it carefully in his hands. The purposefully misshapen feet had holes in their undersides, the tiny prongs of gears visible just inside.

" What are you meant to do, troll?" he asked the toy, setting him back down carefully. " I bet your brothers will know..." His eyes trailed to the scrap of paper, then to the clock on his wall. 5:45pm. He'd be free in 15 minutes, but something else, something decidedly not his temper twanged within him at the idea of approaching the shop again. He picked up the scrap, turned it once in his hand, only to see more curly cursive on the back.

" P.S. We close at 10pm. _No exceptions_." He felt his eye twitch.

No.

Thorin picked up the toy, dropping it and the scrap of paper into the paper bag. He stuffed it into one of his drawer's and slammed it shut much too hard, shaking the whole damn desk.

He would _not_ be baited by some filthy, lunatic stalker with a bone to pick. Whatever apology may have been owed was now gone thanks to the childish behavior of " _B. Baggins_ ". Whatever he wanted from him, he would _not_ get.

Thorin would _not_ give him the satisfaction!

  
**~{-}~**

 

_**2 Days Later** _

 

Bard did his best to ignore the man on the other side of the glass. He only glanced at him once, offering a polite smile before going back to his arranging of the display. The smile was returned with an awkward grimace that made him look more constipated than polite. Bard didn't have time to acknowledge him beyond that, focusing instead on the scene before him.

Today was the day Bifur had delivered his masterpiece. A dragon of appalling size (it took Bifur, Bilbo and himself all carrying the thing to get it in) was laying siege to a small town on a lake. He was just finishing up building the town out of those lovely building block sets they'd received from Bofur when he realized he was being watched.

Or glared at, rather.

The man was burly, furry, and entirely too serious for one who was staring openly at a children's shop. Granted, the dragon was an engineering marvel, the engraved copper plating all along its outside splitting occasionally to reveal the many gears and cogs of it's insides. Bilbo had physically bounced in excitement after seeing it in action, insisting on paying Bifur extra for his work. Bard had to agree. A retired policeman was not the first person you'd think to be a toy maker, but boy had he earned the title.

But the imposing man wasn't paying it any attention. His eyes were trained on something behind him, flitting around as if searching. Bard's hand tipped over one of the tiny houses and he cursed, going back to ignoring the looming presence for the sake of his town's structural integrity.

He was honestly enjoying himself, placing the little lake men around to wait patiently for their doom at the dragon's hand. Unbeknownst to the dragon, there was a great bow atop the tallest tower in the town and one very brave little man was going to use it to take the dragon down and save his family.

At least, that's how it went in Bard's head. He liked it when fathers were the heroes they should always be. If the bowman in question looked suspiciously like Bard, he didn't say anything. Bofur had a thing for carving figurines that strikingly resembled people he knew. Bard was proud to say this wasn't the first piece to enter the shop sporting his face.

" Bard, I need your help when you have a moment!" his boss called from the back, no doubt needing him to reach something off the top racks. Short and afraid of ladders. What would Bilbo do without him?

" Just a moment! Setting up our bowman here. This really is a detailed set. Tell Bofur I love the little people!" Bilbo just laughed lightly, probably texting the cheerful man now with his compliment.

He finished placing the little figures, quite proud of his display, before turning away from the weirdo in the window to help his boss.

" Don't suppose we can avoid unlocking that door a bit longer?" He asked casually, pulling the ladder from the wall. It was always a task to scoot around the stacks of boxes and packing material with the ladder in his hands. He placed the ladder against the high shelves and started to climb. Bilbo watched him from his spot in the creaky old swivel chair in the corner. A desk made of boxes sat behind it with a comically old phone and several large stacks of paper. He looked amused.

" Why? Not happy with the display just yet, Mr. Perfectionist?" Bard shook his head.

" It's quite the scene, if I do say so myself. All set to lure the munchkins in. I'm just not keen on letting that bear in with them." He snatched the little crate in one hand, balancing it carefully as he stepped back down. " Been standing out there for nearly twenty minutes just staring. Quite rude and a bit creepy." He turned to set the crate down for Bilbo, but paused when he saw the look on his face. " Alright there, Boss man?"

Bilbo had stiffened, standing quickly from his chair and fishing his phone out of his red jeans. Why the man insisted on rolling up the legs of every proper pair of pants he had until they were bunched just under his knee's was beyond him. Just another quark, he supposed. Like the headbands. Bilbo weaved around the boxes quickly, practically shoving the phone in his face.

" Did he look like this?" Bard didn't really register the picture at first. He was more focused on how eager his boss looked. He furrowed his brow and studied the picture carefully. He couldn't keep an amused huff down.

" That's him. God, he looks like an angry bull. I hope you wiped the door. He probably got snot on it..." He reached out to lower the phone from his face. " You know this guy?" Bilbo shifted uncomfortably and then something clicked. Bard's face set in a deep frown. " ...Is he bothering you?"

Bilbo was a damn decent fellow and quite charming in his own colorful way. He tended to attract people of all kinds, but not always the right kinds. Bilbo was also, thankfully, very good at spotting trouble before it became a problem and was an expert at shooing people off. That being said, there were a few pictures stuck to the wall above the makeshift desk. The faces of people not allowed anywhere near the store. Or Bilbo.

The shorter man smiled at him, though, and Bard relaxed.

" Not in the way you're thinking. Had a nice conversation with him last week that involved troll mucus and his lack of stamina." Bard's eyebrows skirted his hairline.

" Troll mucus? Stamina?" Bilbo blinked at him innocently, rocking on the balls of his feet with a shrug.

" Don't know what made him so mad." If the smile on Bilbo's face was any indication, that statement wasn't totally true. " We were closed for the night, but I was still counting the till and this guy just started banging on the windows, signing horrible things. You should have seen his face when I signed back!" he laughed and Bard had to admit he would have liked to see that face. He'd seen people try to go toe to toe with Bilbo before. Now he almost wanted to let the man in just to see Bilbo knock his grumpy ass down.

" Well, in that case, I'll let you handle him. I'm sure he'll _enjoy_ your assistance." He handed him the small crate, a tiny tea set he believed, and put the latter away. Bilbo muttered something to himself Bard didn't catch, but the smile on his face had him wondering if Bilbo wasn't hoping for a fight... Or something just as _rigorous._  

Unfortunately, no one got what they wanted.

Bilbo hung back in the stock room, answering a call that must have been important since he sagged the moment he hit the chair, all the bounce taken out of him. Bard left him to it, snatching the keys from the wall as he went and made to open the shop.

There was no sign of the man.

“ Just as well...” He muttered to himself, opening the door to peer up and down the street for the bulky figure. He thought for a moment he saw him lingering at the end of the street, but he blinked and the man had rounded the corner. He wondered to himself why he'd come back and if maybe he shouldn't be worried. What kind of man made a fuss outside a toy shop that late at night?

“ That was Smaug.” Bilbo said behind him, causing him to jump and retreat back into the shop. “ Still insisting he meet with me and go over a new offer. Asshole...”

“ To be fair, he never really seemed like the type to take 'no' for an answer.” Bard gave him a very pointed look, raised eyebrows and all. Bilbo scoffed.

“ Yeah, well I'm just the man to teach him. Rude sonofabitch.” he chuckled in spite of himself, always humored when the shorter man bristled up like an ill tempered cat. Someone that small shouldn't be so good at looking cross.

“ Yes, yes, get all the curses out. This place will be swarming with kids by three, so we better make sure we get all that vulgarity out before something slips in front of someone's mother.” He admired the little scene in the window one more time before drawing the cloud patterned curtain closed behind it.

He pretended not to notice the way Bilbo lingered at the door, peeking out onto the street hopefully.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Not many people know, but some signs have different motions altogether to match the different contexts with which they are used. For example, in this case Bilbo said 'lubrication' in the 'male' sense, rather than the 'female' sense or the 'grease' sense, like what you'd use on a car. Kind of like how two, too, and to all sound the same, but all mean different things depending on the context and we spell them differently to show that. Same thing with with sign language, only instead of spelling, they move their hands differently. Thorin recognized this and took it as the subtle message it was meant as; That Bilbo prefers men.
> 
> ** Some words don't actually exist in sign language, so sometimes if the word is important to the "speaker" or really just the only word that makes sense, they will simply spell it with the sign language equivalent of the alphabet. There are signs for childish things like "boogers"(snot, bogeys, mucus, etc) but they're not very commonly used unless actually dealing with children. Thorin's experience with his nephews and teaching them simple things in sign language means he still uses it regularly enough it slides in if he's conveying anger to spice up his outrage. 
> 
> Thus when he was insulting Bilbo in the last chapter, he literally spelt the word "troll" with the alphabet and signed "boogers" like one would sign with a child.
> 
> YAY LANGUAGE. It's worth mentioning I don't "speak" very much sign language but I've been learning about it for ages and this fic is mostly an excuse for A; Lots of dirty sign language and B; a reason for me to brush up on what I know and learn some new things in the process. If you have anything to contribute to this process, please let me know, I would love to talk to you. The only cure for ignorance is knowledge!
> 
> Also, Bard and several other characters will be joining the fray as we progress, though this story ultimately won't be very long. I feel like as soon as Thorin get's his pantie's unbunched, we'll creep up on the end real fast. Thanks again for all the support folks, and be sure to check the beginning of the first chapter if you'd like to find me on tumblr! I love hearing from you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you have a fabulous day!


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